


The Dissolution of Stanford Pines

by lemonfizzies



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anyways here's the self-indulgent weirdmaggedon Billford shit I've been promising Emily, But I wanna keep the kiddos safe, Established Relationship, Exes, Human!Bill, I had way too much fun with this, I wouldn't exactly call it noncon bcuz Ford's kind of into it despite the circumstances, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Weirdmageddon, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonfizzies/pseuds/lemonfizzies
Summary: Stanford isn't revealing that equation to break down the barrier for SHIT but Bill's got a plan to make his ex-boyfriend give it up in a heartbeatbeware, it gets a little steamy





	The Dissolution of Stanford Pines

Ford panted around the pressure of his collar, straining to get something more than a shallow gasp through his airways.  
The significance of the kneeling position was not lost on the man. With his wrists chained to his outer thighs and legs braced about shoulder width apart, Ford couldn't help but shake at the prospect of what he may be subjected to. He'd been suspended a lifetime and a half, his legs unused to the pressure of normal force delivered by the floor. Unused to just how slowly each moment ticked by. Time had lost all meaning by now. He'd already given up on counting, had tossed out "4 days" and "3 weeks" and "rescue in general" by now. Bill already ran that wild daydream into the ground and then some. How many times had Stanley broken his chains, said he was so so sorry and so so glad he found Ford in this Goforsaken labyrinth of a Fearamid, only to burn alive in Ford's arms? How many Mabels? How many Dippers? How many versions of Fiddleford in various stages of youth and death and evisceration? How many times had Ford found himself crying, humiliated and hanging, still, from the ceiling by those enchanted shackles? How long had he really been here? The welts on his wrists and neck screamed 'eternity' but he couldn't tell what was reality and what was just construction of Bill's Mindscape.  
And then this, this psuedo-standing position, this was new. Bill hadn't even shifted him directly, the chain just suddenly slackened so he faceplanted into the floor, then yanked him upright so fast his neck popped and his knees buckled.  
He couldn't see for the mist slowly overtaking his glasses. All he could fathom was the quietly drifting sound of Bill's voice as it rose and fell somewhere out of sight.  
"Fair, fair, have us a game -  
Pennies for luck, and horseshoes for pain!  
Under our bruises, don't we look the same?~  
Where is our heaven hiding?"  
Ford wasn't mistaken when he heard a girlish giggle thrown out with the final note. Bill was a slick bastard but, when he had the upper hand, he could be downright childish.  
And suddenly, Ford was yanked upright, tripping and dragging over his own feet as the chains tugged as though they were his puppeteer's strings of fate.  
Bill sauntered into the room, a nightmarish grin on his face and the fingers of one hand snapping to the downbeat. He quickly joined Ford in a sliding box-step, paralleling his captive who was still attempting to resist the chains as they pulled him to and fro in - what he now realized must be - a dance. Bill stopped snapping, one free wrist draped lazily on Ford's neck, thumb pressed against his heartbeat. The other, gently bobbing like a conductor without a baton. Ford realized that this was the hand controlling his movements. All the while, no matter how Ford attempted to break his gaze with his own frigid daggers, Bill met his partner's looks with a violently electric-blue gleam of excitement. Bill kept on pressing the line of Ford's neck where his blood boiled, the demon mocking him eye-to-eye, humming bright and careless, while bringing the other hand up to tangle in Ford's hair. The chains went slack.  
"Where's your heaven now, Brainiac?" He cooed, the tip of his tongue sticking just out beyond his teeth teasingly.  
Ford's first instinct was to push Bill away with all his might, but he knew better than to put up a resistance.  
"Still nothing but a state of mind, Cipher." He replied flatly, remaining as neutral as possible without falling privy to some slip of the tongue. Ford didn't trust the steady pulse in his abdomen, didn't trust the stirrings he felt over the intimacy of the contact, but he trusted Bill even less. If the demon wanted to play games, it was better than being electrocuted. And it takes two to play.  
He'd worshipped the entity once, knew how to massage his ego and more. Or so he thought.  
"State of mind? Oh, Stanford, I've seen the mess you've got upstairs. It's a lot closer to damnation than you'd think."  
Bill was still maintaining eye contact, his hands trailing down Ford's chest and fluttering briefly at his sides, before hooking by the thumb in the belt loops of his trousers. Ford fought to keep his hitching breath from becoming audible.  
"You know, I saw a lot of other things up there, too. Back in the day."  
Bill's grin was no longer manic, teeth hidden behind lips pressed thin as though trying to keep in a laugh.  
"Did you?" Ford managed to keep his voice from cracking, though it was far from steady. He felt air striking the edges of his hips where Bill was leaning in, pulling down the band of Ford's pants as he went. The demon didn't even lower himself to a verbal reply, only making a smug noise deep in his throat. He stepped back, bringing his arms lazily up to rest his fingers on the sides of Ford's glasses, before flicking the frames off the man's nose. Ford spluttered and Bill caught the glasses as they dropped.  
"You won't be needing these." He teased, dropping them to the floor and -- before Ford could get a word in edgewise -- bringing his heel down upon them with a crunch and a snap. Ford bit back a shout of dismay.  
Bill shook his foot to make sure none of the shards were ruining the sole of his boot before clicking his heels together like a soldier at attention. Ford found himself jerked back down into the kneeling position, this time with a pop in his jaw and his elbow. Something in Bill's face twisted, and he bent at the waist, hooking an index finger under Ford's chin to direct his gaze upwards. The collar tightened ever so slightly. Ford turned red night from lack air, jerking his head to the side to try and get away from the heat of Bill's breath on his nose and eyes. Bill only dug his digit further into the soft space between Ford's chin and neck and the collar tightened again, bringing dark to the edge of Ford's vision until Bill's blurry face was the only thing he could "see."  
"Let's find out if you're as easy as I remember." The demon smirked, bringing his hand up to cover Ford's eyes as he lost consciousness.  
When Ford came to, he could feel air hitting the damp space of neck where his collar used to be. Unfortunately, he quickly realized that the collar was not the only item that had been removed. As he shifted about uneasily, trying to get a better grasp on his situation, he found that he was entirely missing the weight of clothes. It seemed that the rest of his shackles remained, and he was suspended by his wrists, his feet could not make contact with any surface below. Where he was now and from what he was hanging, exactly, he couldn't tell since the pitch black darkness of the area did not let up even after he knew his eyes should have adjusted. And this was all well and good, these were all very *rational* ideas that he was articulating internally but he couldn't help the slight quiver throughout his whole body at even the slightest shift in air currents. He couldn't help the deep weight in his gut that he couldn't assign to fear or excitement alone. Seems Bill had been paying attention when they were younger, or else he'd just casually struck all of Stanford's worst kinks, the sensation only worsened by thirty years of isolation. Of course, Ford knew he couldn't keep analyzing, rationalizing, objectively conpartmentalizing forever. At some point his careful internal narration was going to falter and he'd fully process the fact that he was naked, at the mercy of his ex-boyfriend, hanging from what was most likely a ceiling and – regrettably – turned the fuck on by it.  
Speak of the devil, Ford nearly jumped out of his skin when Bill let out a self-satisfied giggle somewhere in front of him.  
"Well, Stanford, I never!" Bill feigned scandalization, and Ford strained to see through the darkness. There was nothing, though, the black utterly absolute. His only clue was the shifting air and the sound of the demon's high-heeled boots clacking on tile.  
Oh, so there was tile.  
"Enjoying the view? I know I am!~"  
Ford felt his cheeks heating up, stiffening at the comment.  
"H-How can you see anything in here?" He asked spitefully, knowing full well that Bill probably had some sort of magic night vision. The room went silent. Ford felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in anticipation, every muscle tense as he strained for any indication of movement.  
A jolt through his torso as Bill's velvet-gloved hands suddenly dug into Ford's sides. He yelped, twisting but getting nowhere. Bill laughed from somewhere so deep it echoed.  
"Great stuff, Fordsy! We should've tried blindfolds days ago."  
Ford cursed aloud, how could he not have noticed? It certainly didn't feel like there was any fabric over his eyes, but it would explain the total lack of vision.  
"What's this supposed to accomplish, Cipher?"  
A wounded animal in a corner, now he was just lashing out. Frightened not just by his powerlessness, but by the slow-building pressure in his dick. He didn't need this, not now, was it just him or was it suddenly very very warm?  
Bill chuckled (so he was closer, then, ) and pressed his body against Ford's. The pressure was just slight enough to shake his mental grip on reason, he thrust forward a bit on instinct. He was viscerally disgusted, but physically…well, physically he was a different matter altogether.  
"Oh," Ford could practically hear the demon grin, voice dripping with superiority, "you like that, huh?"  
"Damn you" Ford wheezed through gritted teeth, even as pangs of need shot through his very core.  
"Bite me, Brainiac," Bill quipped smugly, grabbing Ford's ass, tugging him flush against himself as he started to grind on the man's growing erection. Ford made a noise somewhere between a groan and a gasp, fighting against the urge to move in sync.  
"How long's it been, Stanford? I daresay you're a tad too excited."  
Ford wasn't going to say he'd been emotionally devastated to the point of celibacy following Bill's betrayal, not out loud, so he just clenched his jaw tighter and kept fighting the moans building in his throat.  
And then suddenly, Bill was gone, and Ford let out a high pitched whine he didn't mean to, trying to chase the feeling but it was beyond his reach.  
"Ooh, do that again." Bill demanded, somewhere behind Ford now. How did he get there?  
Ford's ears burned, with shame or with want was anyone's guess.  
The click of the heels started again, circling around the left, and suddenly Bill's velvet-clad fingers were wrapped around Ford's shaft. The fabric was smooth, plush, and Ford thrust forward, trying to get it all the way down before Bill moved.  
"Hey now – " The demon's voice dropped ominously and he clamped down with a vice-like grip. The man whimpered at the rush of pain, needy and slowly going dizzy from lack of stimulation. God, the velvet was infuriating. Ford knew, of course, what Bill wanted. He wasn't an idiot but he was still thinking that maybe Bill would just lose interest if he feigned ignorance. He was getting close to melting in the demon's will entirely, trying to get his reason back before he fell back into old habits.  
As you can well imagine, it backfired horribly.  
"Are you ignoring me?" Bill's tone turned deadly, hand removed, and Ford felt the beginnings of a shiver. A quake. But even that didn't register fast enough, his reflexes worn from decades of hypervigilance and dampened by blind desire.  
The tension in his chains vanished, he fell for a split second too long – long enough to let him know he was nowhere near the ground – and let out an inarticulate shout, made a wild swing for the last place he'd heard Bill, and all of this in the space of a moment before his outcry was cut short by the clamping on of the collar.  
At first, relieved, then jerked - too heavy! - down and he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, the collar fixing to snap his neck and the pressure, the pressure, now it was building in his head AND his prick, he choked and kicked up, fish out fo water and dying, but a human has yet to bouy itself in air and he didn't have enough time to think as he passed out from shock and lack of air. The collar vanished again and Ford fell the remaining 3/16th of an inch left between his feet and the floor, crumpling at Bill's feet, a haphazard mess of limbs and flesh. Bill snapped his fingers, ever the puppeteer, and the chains reattached, dragging Ford back up to hang limp against the wall. He didn't wake.  
Bill frowned, heels clicking short the distance between these ex-and-almost-new-again lovers. He absently traced the swelling purple marks lacing Ford's neck with a tenderness he wouldn't dare reveal while the man was awake.  
"Idiot." He grinned contentedly, snapping into existence a chair studded with alien teeth, sinking into a supple leather only achievable with Xeldjion hide.  
Now, the waiting game. The most boring part of any pursuit, at least as far as Bill was concerned. Humans were such frail creatures.  
The mind, though, the shining jewel of any fleshbag, that's what he was after. It was one thing to own Stanford Pines physically, that was easy. Beat him into it, sure. To own him as an entity, as a man felled to the smoking embers of long-forgotten lust? Bill would have to woo him into it. Stanford Pines was a man of discriminating tastes and would deny it till his dying breath if Bill kept on like he was but given the right twists and tugs, a few could sentences whispered in the heat of the moment, and that precious mind would be his again to rifle through as he wished, the Library of Alexandria on file and somewhere, *somewhere* in there, the equation to break the barrier would be his. Yes, what a noble cause it was, Bill was entirely and completely concerned only with the equation, end of discussion. But even as he told this to himself, Bill smirked at the ludicrous nature of the lie. As if.  
Stanford would not remember much of that week, dipping in and out of consciousness, all but surrounded by darkness impenetrable from any angle, the only sounds he heard were Bill's voice and his own but even that was half cut with the eventual introduction of a gag, feeling nothing but the swelling and receding of lust and pleasure and resistance, until it all blended together and he could no longer make the mental leap to recall a world beyond Bill and his velvet-gloved fingers and his whips and his chains. Nothing existed, nothing had ever existed. There was no beginning or end, only Bill. There was no Stanford Pines, either, and he and Bill became one, the demon ransacking his mind in a manic hijacking, jerking Ford's body around as though getting a feel for an old skill long since worn, an old instrument creaking to life under the once-dormant musician's dextrous hands.  
Standard Pines ceased to exist just as the barrier keeping Bill in place ceased to exist and it occurred to him, dimly, he completely missed it u til now,the chains were gone. Everything was gone. He wondered if anything was ever really there at all. Bill kissed him so hard he grew dizzy and could've sworn his eardrum popped. And he sank back into blankness again.

**Author's Note:**

> this was 100% self-indulgent kink I ain't even gonna lie and nothing even happened oops it's my first even remotely explicit work so uh I don't even know what to say here hope u enjoyed? ;~;  
> U made it all the way down here so u must've stuck around for /something/. I'll be satisfied knowing that much, at least. :)


End file.
